Me da miedo regresar a Chihuahua y que las cosas que antes me llenaban o me hacían permanecer en un estado neutro o “normal” ya no lo hagan más y que todo comience a estallar de nuevo, as usual.
So maybe yes, I’m finally breaking my old patterns.
Soy una paradoja eterna. Chingao.
something i would like to offer young/new/forming writers:
read those who turn you inside out. devour their work. sleep with their words. energy. light. against yourself. and soak.
and know that everything they have done. came from their spines. and their eyelashes. and the little mountains that fall along their eyes.
see how they stretched a word. or a page against itself. and ask yourself how can you can turn paper/ space into a language. be inspired by their journey. their commitment to their fingerprints.
but. do not spend three. five. seven years. being someone else. years you could have been. becoming yourself. you do not get that kind of freshness. back.
but. do not model yourself after them. write like them. copy. mimic. fall so deeply in love that you hear their voice when you write. i know we are taught to trace those we admire to learn about our own creativity. but. what would happen if you challenged this. if you allowed their sound. to take you to your sound. and you did the work of excavation.
put the book down. remove the page. released the work. and reveled in the way their words make you feel.
take those sensations. that exquisite excitement. and vow to create your colors. colors that will make people. feel. you. through their eyes.
in writing. there comes a time when you must let the writers you love go. so you can fall in love with the sound of yourself. you must. if your voice is to become more familiar to your creativity than any other.